


First Aid

by RowboatCop



Series: Cliche Interruptus (or 5 Times the Avengers Interrupt Skye and Coulson During a Sex Cliche, and One Time They Don't) [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: But I had to be done with it, Coulson is a teensy bit jealous, F/M, Fluff, Hurt Phil Coulson, I can't write Jealous!Coulson, Protective Skye, Silly, Skye finds Thor dreamy, crawling towards third base
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-12 15:48:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2115699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowboatCop/pseuds/RowboatCop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coulson and Skye are supposed to have a weekend alone together, and instead find themselves in need of first aid (and other...tending to) after a fight with an Asgardian beast. </p><p>Mostly I'm a perv, and anything that isn't me being a perv is an excuse to use the line, "Huh, so that's a bilgesnipe."</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Aid

**Author's Note:**

> I spent too much time this week looking at Clark Gregg's crooked inseam, especially in that grey three piece suit. That. Fucking. Suit. Those. Fucking. Pants. Goddamn, Clark Gregg. 
> 
> This series should more rightfully be called "the one in which I fixate on a publicity image as inspiration for porn." (Chloe in short red carpet dresses cut down to her navel? Also excellent inspiration.)

Coulson pushes down harder on Lola’s accelerator, increasing speed along the nearly-empty highway between the airfield where they’ve parked the Bus and the nearby London suburb where he’s taking Skye for dinner. Afterwards, they’ve got a room at a four star hotel, and Coulson has every intention of keeping Skye naked for as much of the next two days as possible.

Everyone has gone their separate ways for the weekend, so there’s no worry about running into anyone, or of being disturbed. (Although actually he’s almost certain that Agent Triplett is going the same way as Agent Simmons, but Trip had managed to walk in on the one moment he and Skye had lost the ability to be professional this week. He figures they can keep each other’s secrets. Not that he plans on keeping his relationship with Skye a secret for long.)

As the car accelerates, Skye squeezes his thigh, and through the rush of air in his ears he can hear her giggle. It’s too loud to talk, but it hasn’t stopped them from carrying on a silent conversation of soft looks and touches.

Coulson looks over at her, and she holds his gaze as her hand slides further up his inner thigh. He can’t tear his eyes from hers as his body reacts — his cock get longer and thicker as though trying to meet her — and she shoots him a knowing grin. When her fingers finally come into contact with him, his whole body tenses involuntarily, including his foot on the gas, and the sudden, jerky acceleration calls his attention sadly away from her

Skye pulls her hand back down to mid thigh, to a less dangerous place, and Coulson flips on Lola’s thrusters, taking them up into the air high enough that they’re out of any possible danger from his distraction. Up high, with cruise control set, there’s much less room for human error.

She laughs at the move, clearly loving the fact that she’s flustered him, but her hand returns to its place against his groin and he finds that he really doesn’t care if she laughs at him.

Coulson lets his eyes skate down her figure in return, enjoying the way she looks when she’s dressed up. It’s not something he would wish for every day — he rather likes Skye’s day to day casual dress, plus it’s come in useful on more than one occasion to have someone around who reads as down to earth, not a suit, just another person. But still. Her hair is up in an elegant knot that he knows is less a fashion statement and more an allowance to him — letting him keep Lola’s top down. (He appreciates that.) Her purple dress is one he’s never seen, with a low neckline and a high hemline and a shape that nips in at her waist. It emphasizes the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips, the muscular length of her legs. There’s really no part of Skye’s body that isn’t almost unbearably sexy.

Once Lola is stable, he slides his own hand onto Skye’s thigh, and the feel of her warm, soft skin under his palm is almost as good as her hand brushing up against his cock.

Coulson backs off on Lola’s speed, suddenly in no rush to get to dinner. It gets quieter without the thrusters on full blast, with less wind rushing past their faces.

As though she’s followed his thought process exactly, Skye slides closer to him — as close as the bucket seats allow — and latches her lips below his ear.

“I missed you this week,” she whispers.

“Me, too.” It’s more of a moan, and he can feel her smile into his neck.

Between Agents Barton and Romanoff visiting and the regular happenings at the base, they’d only really found twenty minutes alone in his office. And Trip’s entrance had cut that much shorter than he’d have liked.

“I’ve been waiting all week to get you naked,” Skye teases him, her hand sliding fully up his inner thigh and closing around his erection. He grunts at the pressure, has to swallow back his lust to reply.

“I’ve had a hard time thinking about anything except what I’m going to do to you tonight.”

“What _you’re_ going to _do_ _to_ me?” She raises her eyebrows, challenging, and Coulson lets his hand push all the way under her dress, pressing his fingers against her panties.

“I’m going to make you come until you can’t move.” He smirks as he says it, projecting quiet self-assurance, and watches Skye shiver as his fingers pulse against her. Her face and chest flush, and he can see her nipples harden under her dress.

“Preview?” She whimpers, and Coulson can’t quite hold back a groan at the pleading note in her voice.

The angle is all wrong, but he manages to work two fingers under her panties, and they both moan as he feels how wet and wanting she is. She squeezes her hand around his shaft while he touches her, and he’s extremely glad Lola is basically driving herself.

He adjusts his hand, moving enough that he can slide his fingers fully inside of her, and Skye moans her approval. She grasps the back of his head with both hands and pulls him into a kiss as she moves with him, keeping his fingers at the right angle as her mouth grows frenzied against his.

“We could skip dinner,” she whispers against his lips.

“The hotel has a great restaurant,” Coulson rationalizes as he thrusts his fingers deeper into her, twisting until she moans. “We could get room service.”

“Yes, I…” Skye gasps then, pulls back from the kiss as her whole body shivers. “Like that," she moans, "don’t stop.” The angle is still all wrong, but Skye manages to move with him until her breath is coming in harsh pants and high-pitched moans that drive him crazy. She’s not even touching him anymore, but his cock still seems to pulse with every sound that comes out of her mouth.

He thinks, rather crassly, that if he can get her off this easily in a car, he’ll have no problem following through on his earlier promise. For the past two weeks, he’s been vividly imagining burying his face between her thighs, and as he feels her body get tenser and closer to orgasm, he thinks that probably they can skip dinner altogether.

Skye uses her grasp on his head to force him to meet her eyes, and right as he knows she’s about to come, she screams.

In a bad way. Very bad way.

He twists his head around, looking back at what gave Skye such a fright, only to see a giant creature — at least as large as an elephant, though reptilian in nature and with large antlers — rampaging towards the approaching town.

Coulson pulls his hand back from between her legs, and he and Skye blink at each other a few times before he changes course to follow the creature. She opens the glove compartment and pulls out two ICERs, though the look on her face says that she doesn’t expect them to be of any use.

They are beaten in their chase, as it turns out, by Lady Sif, who appears on the ground in front of them as the beast stomps into a neighborhood area. Coulson parks Lola, and he and Skye get out.

“Son of Coul,” she greets him, and he shares a smile with Skye as he clasps hands with Sif. “And Lady Skye, you were injured when last we met.”

“Much better now, thanks,” Skye takes Sif’s hand before looking back at the destruction.

“A bilgesnipe,” Sif informs them as she notices the line of their gazes. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you how it got here. Odin suspects foul play.”

“Huh, so that’s a bilgesnipe,” Coulson mumbles to himself.

Things move quickly after that. Sif is more than able to handle the hunting of the beast, so Coulson and Skye focus on minimizing casualties as Sif draws it into an open area. They’re relatively successful in that the creature only destroys a few cars, but a piece of one of those cars comes flying at Coulson’s shoulder, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Skye is at is side instantly, ripping away his torn jacket and shirt to expose the wound, which he can tell is bleeding too much.

“Trip taught me to do field stitches,” she says as she applies pressure to the wound, “but we need to get back to the Bus.”

He can read the panic in her eyes, but he’s proud of the way she bites it back and takes control of the situation. With his good arm, he hands over Lola’s keys, watching as Skye lets out a small, mirthless laugh.

“I always hoped that the first time you let me drive Lola would be under better circumstances.”

“We’ll make some better circumstances,” he promises.

Keeping his injured arm stable, he pulls her down to him and kisses her soundly on the lips.

Skye just nods and starts to turn his torn clothes into temporary bandages and a sling to hold his arm immobile. Her work is quick and competent, and as much as this isn’t part of his plan for tonight, he can’t help but be glad Skye is here to take care of him.

Once she’s helped him into the passenger seat of Lola — and he hasn’t ridden in the passenger seat of Lola since Nick Fury was the one driving it — she runs to check in with Sif, and the next thing Coulson knows, he’s waking up in the lab of the bus.

“What happened?”

“You passed out.” Her eyes are wide, her face flushed and sweaty, and every inch of her person says that she’s spent some time in a state of panic. But when he reaches a hand forward to touch her face, to try to comfort her, he notices an IV tube.

“You put in an IV?”

“You lost a lot of blood.” She shivers, but Coulson doesn’t think it’s from cold. “I called Simmons,” she answers, “and she talked me through it, just in case you passed out because of the blood loss.” She pauses and manages to look incredibly guilty. “I called everyone. They’re all coming back...I sort of panicked.”

“It’s okay,” he tells her, reaching out his other hand. His injured arm actually doesn’t feel too bad, and he’s able to relax a bit. “How long was I out?”

“Almost an hour. Simmons said it might just be shock, not blood loss. She said that what I was describing didn’t seem that bad, but that if you were unconscious it was better to be safe than sorry.”

She grasps his hand then and slides out the IV placement, pressing a cotton ball into the wound and holding it in place with a piece of tape.

“She talked me through it a bunch of times,” Skye whispers, and Coulson can only imagine how terrified Skye must have been. Can remember his own terror at her unconscious body, and he hadn't had to face that alone.

She’s shaking, possibly in shock herself, and all Coulson can think to do is pull her closer to him. At first, she allows herself to be tugged closer, places a soft kiss on his good shoulder, but she resists his attempt to get her to climb up next to him.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispers.

“You won’t.”

She nods and lets herself be lured in, up onto Simmons’s exam table, curled into his good shoulder.

It takes several minutes for her breathing to even out, for him to feel like she’s reaching a state of equilibrium. But eventually, she's relaxed against him, and his surroundings begin to seep in a little bit more. That’s when Coulson realizes that he’s lost both of his shirts in the course of Skye’s doctoring, leaving him exposed from the waist up. As though she can sense an oncoming fear of her reaction, she places a hand directly over his scar and meets his eyes.

“You don’t have to be ashamed of it,” she tells him. “It’s just a part of you.” She leans in and lays her lips over his scar, and Coulson raises his uninjured arm in order to stroke the back of her head, where her hair is falling out of the careful style she had arranged earlier.

Skye pulls back after a moment and drops a soft kiss to his forehead, to each of his cheeks, on the bridge of his nose.

“Skye,” he whispers her name as she rains kisses on him, and when she pulls back enough to meet his eyes, hers are watery and worried.

“I was so scared,” she tells him. “It’s stupid because I knew…”

“Not stupid,” he cuts in.

“I just…” She rolls her eyes at herself, and he strokes his good hand down her back. “Let me?”

He nods, even though he doesn’t understand the question, because there isn’t much he wouldn’t let her do.

It surprises him when Skye straddles him and then leans down to drop more chaste kisses across his face and then down his neck. He sighs at the feeling — soft and sweet and comforting.

“I don’t like seeing you hurt,” she mumbles as she moves her lips down until they brush his scar.

“I know the feeling,” he answers.

But his breath is beginning to grow more ragged as Skye slides her body against his. Comforting becomes unbearably sexy almost too quickly, and his body reacts beneath her.

Their eyes lock as she drags her mouth from his scar to his right nipple, letting her tongue circle it before moving to the left and repeating the motion. The contrasting sensations of hot mouth and cold air make him gasp, rock his head back, thrust his chest upwards.

Skye exhales gentle laughter against him as her lips slide lower, her nose brushing through the thicker hair that covers his abdomen.

“Skye,” he breathes her name, and she hums in return and unbuckles his belt. “Skye,” he groans, louder, as she unbuttons his pants and pulls down his zipper.

“Phil,” she answers, and the sound of his name in her mouth is enough to drive him wild, but then she slides her hand into his boxers and wraps her fingers around the length of him.

“Oh, Christ,” he grunts, and she laughs again, running her nose through his chest hair as she touches him. “Skye, you’re going to make me —”

“Good,” she cuts him off, squeezing him tighter and sliding her hand up and down with purpose.

“But —”

“ _Let me_. I want to do this for you.”

He just groans and slams his eyes closed, savoring the feeling of her hand moving over him as her lips drop kisses lower and lower down his stomach. She pushes his trousers and boxers down, and he moans as her breath washes over the head of his cock.

“Skye.” He’s panting, thrusting his hips up towards her and seeking the heat of her mouth, trying to physically restrain himself from laying his hand against the back of her head, when the sound of someone stomping towards the lab pulls them apart, setting him to quickly pulling his pants back up.

“What enchantment is this?”

He’s almost offended at how quickly Skye leaps off of him, almost _really_ offended at how wide her eyes go at the sight of Thor.

She thinks Thor’s dreamy, he knows.

Great.

“Thor, son of Odin,” Coulson greets him, finishing the buckle on his belt as he stands up, pretending that being topless in front of an Avenger doesn’t bother him.

It normally wouldn’t matter that much. Coulson has never been the type to compare himself to others like this. Except that it’s Thor and Skye thinks he’s _dreamy_ , and he’s almost more bothered that it’s bothering him in the first place. 

Thor’s eyes drop to his chest, to his scar, and Coulson watches as the god’s eyes darken with anger and sadness.

“I looked on as you died. My brother killed you, and I was unable to stop him.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” he says, and Thor nods in dismissal more than agreement. It’s clear he will take some responsibility for it, no matter what Coulson says.

“So many times, now, my people have brought death and destruction to your world, but your death has weighed heaviest on my heart, Son of Coul.”

Thor’s face is deeply troubled — it is clear that he has been evaluating the concepts of right and wrong and humanity — and Coulson finds himself uncharacteristically without words. Luckily, the god pulls himself out of his own mood, and a large smile almost threatens to split his face.

“Your return to life gives me great joy." Thor brings his hand down against Coulson's uninjured shoulder, giving him a hard jolt. "Tell me how it came to be; your people do not possess this magic.”

“It was alien,” Coulson admits. “I don’t think they know very much about it.”

“Human experimentation with forces beyond your ken is common, though,” Thor acknowledges with good humor, as though he finds humans to be adorable. He probably does.

“Yes. It is.”

Coulson glances back back to catch Skye’s eye and is annoyed when she doesn’t meet his gaze. Instead, she’s staring directly at Thor.

It’s at that moment that Thor seems to become aware of her presence.

“I apologize,” he says to her, taking a few steps past Coulson to where Skye is leaning against the exam table. “The Lady Sif told me of your friend's presence nearby, and I rushed to see him. I am Thor, son of Odin.”

Thor takes her hand then and leans down to kiss it.

And Coulson knows full well that Thor does _not_ go around greeting all women like that, at least not anymore. He frowns. Glowers, more like, in Skye’s direction, but she’s just looking up at Thor, completely charmed.

“I’m Skye,” she says, smiling too widely. And Thor’s lips remain on her hand for _way_ too long before he pulls back, and even then he continues to cradle her hand in his larger one. The fact that it bothers him makes Coulson want to kick himself.

“And you are Coulson’s love?”

She chokes on the question, clearly startled, and finally looks past Thor to meet Coulson’s eyes. They lock gazes, and her eyes dance with amusement at his frown, at his discomfort with the whole situation. It occurs to him then that she’s having fun at least partly at his expense — that his jealousy his hilarious to her. The smile she shoots him makes it impossible to do anything but smile in return, though.

“ _He_ is _my_ love,” she answers, though she doesn’t look back at Thor, keeps her gaze locked with his. It’s serious all of the sudden, not a joke at all, and Coulson thinks he’d appreciate a return to _any_ of the activities they were engaged in earlier in the evening.

“Skye is helping me rebuild SHIELD,” Coulson cuts in, breathing a sigh of relief when Thor finally drops Skye’s hand.

“Then your SHIELD will be in good hands,” Thor pronounces. “And I will be at your service.”

He says the second part directly to Skye, offering her a half bow, and Coulson frowns again as Thor steps back from the room.

“I will go aid Lady Sif in disposing of the bilgesnipe and allow you to continue...tending to your partner’s wounds, Lady.”

Thor nods to Skye, and for the first time Coulson notices the knowing twinkle in his eye. It’s a full grin when Thor nods at him, and Coulson’s face flushes pink.

He and Skye stand together at the exam table as they watch Thor go, as quickly as he came.

“Are you going to tell me how dreamy he is, now?”

“Well, he _is_ pretty dreamy,” Skye agrees.

“I’m offended.” It’s mostly deadpan. Mostly a joke. Mostly.

“Jealousy isn’t a good look for you, Phil,” she jokes, hopping backwards to sit on the exam table.

“If I promise to keep it under wraps when it involves anyone other than a deity, could you humor me and pretend he’s not that good looking?” It comes out as less of a joke that he intended.

Skye laughs and reaches forward, grabs his good hand and reels him towards her.

“I can’t help it. You know I have a thing for older men.”

He can’t bite back his smile at that, barely succeeds in swallowing down the laughter as she tugs him in enough to kiss him. They’re both smiling too much to kiss, though, and kisses become nuzzles against each other’s faces, soft nips on her neck.

“So, I’m your love, huh?” He asks between kisses beneath her ear. She shivers against him and moans.

“Hmmm. And here I thought that would help make you less jealous.”

He loves her. He wants to say it to her, but he’s not exactly sure how. Before he has time to think it through, she leans forward and kisses him for real, mouth devouring as her legs wrap around his waist, and he melts against her.

It’s not until they hear the sound of the SUV approaching the plane that they pull apart, and Skye gets him set back up on the table.

“How’s your shoulder?” She brushes the area around the wound, and Coulson smiles up at her.

“It’s going to be fine. Thank you for taking care of me.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” she tells him, rolling her eyes. “You would have done the same.”

“And you would have thanked me.”

He catches her hand against his shoulder, holds her hand against him, and they smile at each other.

“Let me get a blanket,” Skye finally says as she pulls away at the sound of the team piling out of the SUV. “I’ll cover you up, if you want?”

He nods and watches as she grabs a blanket and covers him, carefully tucking it under his arms so that his scar is covered from the view of the rest of the team.

Once he’s settled, she looks down at him, frowning.

“We’re not going to have much time alone for the next week, are we?”

There are too many things to do — it’s part of the reason this weekend had made so much sense for relaxation.

“We’ll figure it out,” he promises her. 

 


End file.
